Just Joshua (10 page)

Vincent nodded. ‘Orphan,’ he said gravely, pointing at himself.

‘Orphans sometimes get adopted, Sister Martha says.’ Marius frowned, uncertain about whether he
would like that. ‘She says not usually from so far away.’ His face cleared as an explanation struck him. ‘Maybe they wanted Joshua because he’s not really one of us. He carves.’

There was a tiny silence. Millie looked curiously at Joshua. ‘Do you?’ she asked. ‘Like mountain men?’

He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Ooh!’ Marius squealed. ‘Liar!’

Joshua glared at him.

‘You’re a mountain man! You’re a liar! Mountain man! Liar!’ Marius took Vincent’s hand and the two of them jigged about, grinning.

‘Stop it!’ Millie scolded. ‘Does Robert know?’ she asked Joshua.

Know what? Joshua wondered. About the carving, or about the adoption? He shook his head a second time.

Millie’s father came up to them, Tom by his side. ‘What was that racket all about?’ he asked Vincent, who was still jigging up and down, chanting silently.

Vincent opened his mouth to answer but was quelled by Millie’s glare.

Millie’s father looked round at them, amused. ‘I see you’ve got yourself some brothers at last, Josh. Well done. That’ll be fun for you. Now then, I’ve got room for three if any of you want to join me in the boat.’

Marius and Vincent set off at a run towards the boat. ‘Right, that’s two. And you, Josh? Hopeless as you are.
Tom, you’ve got other things to do. Millie? I expect I can squeeze you in.’ He cuffed her affectionately.

They bundled in and, for once, Joshua cast off from the jetty without losing his balance. Marius and Vincent were silenced, in awe at the unexpected treat: a boat, and a boat with an outboard motor at that. Joshua looked at them with new eyes. Brothers, Millie’s father had said. He hadn’t thought of them that way. He had always wanted brothers.

Down in the playground, six figures gathered around a nun, each with a small bag in their hand. As she
dismissed
them they darted away like a shoal of fish, their faded T-shirts and dresses almost merging with the dusty brown of the playground. A seventh figure, Joshua, stood apart from them up in the shade of the verandah, away from their chatter, dressed in white. A nun was bending over his foot.

One strap tightened. ‘This is how you fasten them,’ Sister Martha explained, but he couldn’t really see his feet because her white, veiled head was hiding the stiff new sandals from him. When she had finished one sandal he stamped his foot. The leather made a sharp thud on the floor.

Behind her, the others were being rounded up by Sister Mary and Sister Maria Lisa, so that they could leave for the special Easter picnic. Joshua wriggled.

‘Stand still,’ Sister Martha ordered, tugging the other strap through the buckle. ‘You’re a lucky boy,’ she said firmly.

‘Bye, Josh!’ Marius called.

Joshua waved.

‘Bye, bye!’ called Vincent. ‘Bye, Josh!’ called the others in turn.

He’d been looking forward to the picnic. He half wished the couple were coming for him the next day. But he called cheerfully back at the other orphans and waved as they left.

‘I must just make sure Sister Maria Lisa’s got the corned beef. Don’t move,’ Sister Martha said, and jumped down from the verandah after them.

He wriggled his toes. The leather of the new sandals rubbed against them. He bent and fumbled with the buckle, undid it and slipped one off.

‘What are you doing?’ Sister Martha said, returning.

‘I’m taking off the sandals,’ he answered. ‘I don’t like them.’

‘Well, you’re going to have to get used to them,’ she said sharply. ‘Put it on again. You’ll be wearing shoes every day now – sandals in summer and shoes with laces in the winter, and socks. And sweaters. It’s cold where you’re going. And there are proper streets and houses made with bricks. And libraries,’ she added wistfully. She tugged the buckle tight again. ‘You won’t be able to wander about without shoes as you do here.’

He found that difficult to imagine. When he had
pictured
where he was going to be living he hadn’t got any further than the bedroom. ‘I’ll be able to swim, won’t I?’

She looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know, chick. Maybe there’ll be a swimming pool nearby.’

‘What’s wrong with the sea?’

‘Too cold in winter,’ she said abruptly. ‘And it’s probably dirty. Anyway, I don’t know that they live anywhere near the sea.’

He didn’t like the sound of that.

She stood back and looked at him critically. ‘There, you’ll do,’ she said, tweaking his collar. ‘Now, no going outside and messing up your clothes, hmm? Wait here for them.’

He nodded.

‘I don’t know what’s keeping them,’ she said crossly. But still she hovered. ‘I have to go.’

He knew she did. After all, she was the one who organised the picnic.

‘I’m sure they’ll be here soon.’ She sounded almost as nervous as he felt. ‘Reverend Mother says you’ll have a better life with them,’ she said.

He nodded again. He didn’t know what that meant. But at least he wouldn’t be the odd one out, he thought.

She swooped down and hugged him, almost
suffocating
him in the starchy folds of her habit. ‘Goodbye,’ she said, smoothing the hair from his eyes. ‘You’re a lucky boy, Josh’ she repeated, more fiercely this time, as if she was trying to convince herself. ‘Just think, they want you so much they’ve come halfway round the
world for you. Always remember that. They’ve even paid for you.’ She paused, and then went on, almost to herself, ‘It’s easy if you think everything in life can be bought. Far too easy and far too quick.’

Joshua blinked at her. ‘I’ll come back, won’t I?’ he interrupted. ‘They’ll bring me back? I won’t be gone for ever?’

She didn’t answer. ‘Be good,’ she said, her eyes moist.

He flung his arms around her, not wanting her to go, but she did all the same, in a flurry of white and a clatter of rosary beads.

He was alone.

He decided to carry his bundle along the verandah to the main entrance. It wasn’t heavy; all it had gained was another comic from Millie and a prayer book from the nuns. He went back for Pig and set him facing the
doorway
, standing squarely on his wooden trotters, with the bundle propped on his back. He thought again about the beautiful bedroom he’d have all to himself. His stomach churned, partly in excitement, partly in fear.

They were coming for him in the car, Sister Martha had said. He left the doorway and wandered down to where the white jasmine marked the edge of the school, and looked down the road, first to the left, then to the right, but there was no car to be seen.

He jumped experimentally in his new sandals. Dust
flew up and settled on the leather. He struggled with the buckles and took them off and jumped again. There, that was better. He left the sandals lying on the ground and went back to Pig, untied his bundle and took out the comic.

I’ll look at the comic, he thought, then I’ll check the road again. If they haven’t come by then, I’ll still be able to catch up with the others.

He sat down, leaning against Pig, and flicked open the comic.

He put it down. No, I won’t, he thought, they don’t want me on the picnic, not really. Besides, he’d said goodbye.

He went back for his sandals and was putting them on again when he heard the sound of a car
approaching
. Hurriedly he tried to buckle the sandals, but gave up when he couldn’t get his fingers to move quickly enough. He shuffled to the doorway to pick up his things and set off back across the short stretch of ground towards the gleaming car, bundle in one hand. With the other arm he half-carried, half-dragged Pig, his body twisting with the effort.

The man took his bundle. The woman named Marguerite removed her sunglasses and hugged him and he smiled up at her, excited again, his misgivings forgotten. He was going to a better life. Sister Martha had said so.

‘Get in, dear,’ the woman said.

He climbed on to the back seat. She closed his door, and the man turned on the engine. He sniffed the lovely smell of leather again and gazed once more at the dials.

Something was missing.

Pig! Pig was still outside in the road. He pressed down on the door handle to open it.

The woman turned and closed it again and locked it. ‘Careful,’ she said.

‘But – Pig.’

He thought she understood, but the car was drawing away. She shook her head gently at him. ‘We can’t take that,’ she said. ‘Wherever would we put it? Anyway, how would we get it on the aeroplane?’

Joshua just heard words. They meant nothing. He turned round and knelt on the back seat as he had done with Millie. He couldn’t see Pig. He’d been swallowed up in swirls of sand as the car sprang forward. He turned back and tapped the woman on the shoulder. ‘I want Pig,’ he said, loudly and clearly.

She just smiled at him.

He slumped back on the seat. Wind from the open car window lifted the hair from his neck and blew the woman’s hair around her face. She put a hand upand held it still. Then she turned and indicated that he should wind up the window. ‘It’s too draughty,’ she said.

He stared at her. ‘Pig,’ he mouthed, willing her to react.

‘Close it,’ she said, miming the action. When he did nothing, she sighed, and wound up the window herself.

They drove past the rubbish heap. Without the air from the windows, it was stifling inside the car. The man and woman were talking quietly. Joshua didn’t understand a word. A better life. He hadn’t thought beyond that. It had all happened too quickly. Now Sister Martha’s other words rang in his ears: shoes the whole time, socks, no sea. He hadn’t realised. It was uncomfortable in his sandals. He kicked them off. ‘The other side of the world,’ Sister Martha had said. No Pig, he thought.

By now they were approaching the hospital
building
.

He reached out his left hand and, very carefully, lifted the knob on the door that he’d seen the woman press down. His heart thudded and the blood roared in his ears.

Ahead of them Swabber put one paw in the road and began limping across, not looking to left or right.

The man braked and the car slowed almost to a stop. Joshua pressed down on the door handle and pushed. It flew open. He landed awkwardly on one knee, then jumped to his feet, not looking round, and ran.

He heard shouts behind him, a car door slamming and the sound of heavy footsteps.

Joshua ran even faster, tring to work out his escape route in his head as he ran. If he continued on by the hospital he’d come to the row of small shops and the market and they’d find him again. And he couldn’t go back. He dithered, then swerved to the left and struck off, crashing through the oleander bushes.

Sweet, musty scent broke over him in a wave. Twigs scratched his cheeks and his scalp. Pink blossom brushed his shoulders and fell to the ground as he passed. Instinctively, he went the way he’d seen his father go. Ahead of him was a belt of thicker bushes, their leaves dark green and glossy. He barged through those too, layer after layer of them, till they thinned out and he thought he saw a path, of sorts.

He had a stitch in his side. He stopped, panting, holding his ribs, and looked around him. A parrot screeched at him from a nearby tree, its eyes glittering wickedly from among gaudy green feathers. But that was the only sound. No twigs snapped behind him; there was no one following.

If he turned back, the couple would be waiting. He didn’t dare try to sneak round to the beach where the others would be picknicking in case Sister brought him back. And if he went to Robert’s house or to Millie’s they might tell on him.

Above him the mountains loomed. His father had come from up there, even though he had never
admitted
it. He was on the path Robert said the mountain men took. That first mountain man with the berries would have come this way. If he went on far enough, he’d find them.

The earth was dry and hard behind the belt of bushes. The rough path climbed gradually upwards, and so did Joshua. He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the sun was now high in the sky.

He caught his hand on a thorn bush. He stopped and sucked the scratch. When he looked up, he noticed a shelter, just a canopy stretched over poles, and,
outside
, a monkey playing. It had a banana in its hand.

He edged forward till he could see into the shelter. It was empty. The monkey was chained to one of the poles and hadn’t seen him. It let the banana fall and dug its fingers into its fur, looking for fleas.

Joshua leaped for the banana and retreated with it. He sat down to eat at a safe distance from the monkey.

The monkey was furious. It jabbered at him and waved its fist.

Joshua peeled the banana and gulped it down.

The monkey hurled itself forward as far as its chain would permit.

Joshua flinched. Then he grinned. It couldn’t reach him.

The monkey danced back angrily on its chain and lurched forward again.

But Joshua was not going to be frightened away.

At last it gave up. It stared with sad worried eyes at Joshua then sat down on its thin, wrinkled bottom and began picking fleas from its mangy skin.

Joshua got up, set his face towards the mountain and began to trudge upwards once more. After another hour he was still passing scattered thorn bushes and stunted trees and the mountains seemed just as high above him as they had when he started. He wasn’t used to climbing. His legs ached, his mouth was dry, his head pounded.

A shadow fell on the path. At the end of the shadow walked a man in a blanket and conical hat.

Joshua waited nervously. The man’s strides slowed as he approached.

Joshua bowed. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘My name’s Joshua.’

The man stopped.

‘My father was a mountain man.’ There, it was out. A weight lifted from him. He went on. ‘He’s dead now. Can I come to your village?’

The man was puzzled. He took his water bottle from his belt and handed it over with a curt bow. Perhaps it was water that the boy from the coast wanted.

Joshua seized the bottle and drank greedily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘They
wanted to adopt me,’ he told the man, returning the bottle. ‘But I ran away. Can I come and live with you?’

The man opened his mouth and spoke.

Joshua’s face clouded over. He didn’t understand any of the words; they just sounded like grunts.

The man stopped talking and waved an arm at Joshua, then pointed to the ground and back down at the coast.

Joshua thought he was telling him to wait. ‘All right,’ he said.

The mountain man turned on his heel and went back up the trail as swiftly and silently as he had come. He was going to tell the others, Joshua thought, and then he’d be back for him. He sat down to wait. He waited so patiently and quietly that a lizard came close to his feet, paused, then scurried lightly up his leg and on to his elbow where it was resting on his knee. They stared at each other before Joshua shook it off.

He looked back up the path. It was empty and the shadows were lengthening as the evening came on. On impulse, he gathered small stones together and made a circle with an arrow inside, pointing downwards. Then he set off at a run, back to the monkey. It would be less lonely to wait with the monkey to keep him company.

The animal was not pleased to see him again. It
chattered
angrily and bared its teeth. Careful to keep it at a distance, Joshua circled the shelter, looking for more
food or water. In the corner, on a stone, he saw a bag. He darted at it, and was out of the monkey’s reach before it could react. The monkey screamed in fury.

Joshua unwrapped the sacking. Inside there was no food, just a knife, its blade shiny and well cared for. He rested the blade in his hand.

‘Calm down,’ he said to the monkey, which was dancing up and down, still screaming.

Joshua ignored it. He scrabbled around, looking for wood and found a piece about a foot long that felt good when he picked it up. He sat on a flat stone near the end of the monkey’s chain and began to cut and whittle.

The sound seemed to soothe the creature. It still looked worriedly at Joshua, but it sat down now and picked at itself as before, looking at him every time it raised a flea to its mouth, keeping him under surveillance.

A pointed head emerged from the wood, then one crooked foot and another. Joshua held the lizard in his imagination as he carved. He worked on down the body, making it twist slightly as if it was running.

Above him the sky was darkening. The heavens opened and rain poured down on the mountain in great vertical sheets of water. Trapped on its chain, the monkey was sodden in a matter of seconds, the rain running down his fur in torrents. Although Joshua was
standing only a few feet away, the spot where he stood was still dry. It was like watching the monkey through a glass wall. He reached out and put his arm into the wall. The rain wet it up to the elbow. He pulled it back and watched the drops of water evaporate on his skin.

Abruptly the rain stopped. Steam rose from the ground in front of him. The monkey, which had curled up in a ball when the rain came, raised its head and shook water from its fur. Joshua put the knife to the wood again. He shaped out a third leg and a fourth. And still no one came to bring him to the mountains.

He looked up towards the peaks, which showed black against the deep purple of the setting sun. The temperature was dropping. Joshua wished he had his bundle of belongings with him so he could have put on a second shirt. He carved out a tiny powerful tail and shivered. Why was no one coming? He got up. Perhaps he’d better go back to where he’d met the mountain man. He tucked his shirt inside his shorts and put the wooden lizard down his front. Then he wrapped up the knife, laid it on the stone, and set his face back towards the mountains.

He felt small and exposed in the clear moonlight. Each thorn bush looked the same as the last, and it was difficult to see the path. He stopped, pursed his lips and whistled, once, twice, sending the sound sharply into the still air, the way his father had taught him.

There was no answering whistle.

He no longer knew if he was on the right trail. There weren’t even any bushes with berries as he’d expected. Which must mean, he realised, that he still had a long way to go.

A solitary tree blocked his path. He didn’t remember going past a tree before. He rested his forehead on the rough bark and his bottom lip trembled. He was so tired. He slid down the trunk and curled up at its base, making himself as small as possible. Faintly, far below, he thought he could hear the sound of waves breaking.